


A Little Reinventing

by TheEntireStateOfKentucky



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Accidental almost-death, Connor wants to try, Drug Use, Everybody Lives, F/F, I'll ad tags as they appear, M/M, Therapy, follows connors pov, lots of feelings, mentions of overdose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-10-31 04:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10891491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEntireStateOfKentucky/pseuds/TheEntireStateOfKentucky
Summary: Connors recovery story.





	1. A Long Way From The Top

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is an AU idea ive had for Connor's 'survived' AU, and i wanted some lore behind why all the rest of my stories are like... connor having good relationships with everyone, so here it is,  
> feel free to leave a comment! it really helps me out!

His head hurt.

 

That was really the only thing on his mind right now. He focused on the steadily increasing thrumming of his head until an array of other noises began to clog his ears and make everything feel _worse._ It was almost akin to being underwater, except he was breathing.

 

Was he breathing?

 

Eventually, a steady beeping picked its way out of the crowd of other noises-- getting louder and louder the more his eyelids lightened. Until he was suddenly on the surface of consciousness again.

 

And fuck-- Everything was _white_ and stark, It burned his eyes to look at, so he let them fall shut again. He felt heavy, like he was full of lead--or cuffed to an iron ball or-- or something similar to that, the sentiment was the same either way.

 

The sound of muffled voices became more apparent to him now, and he strained his ears to make sense of the jumbled noises.

"-eems to be in stable condition, for the most part," Came a high, but relatively calm voice from somewhere in front of him.

 

"Do you know when he'll be able to leave?" There was a far deeper voice-- significantly closer to him than the other one.

 

"We'll be able to determine that better once he is fully conscious." speak of the devil, Connor purposefully opened his eyes this time, forcing the burn of it to the back of his mind as he looked around in short bursts.

 

The first thing he noticed was the woman at the front of his--bed? This was _not_ his bed-- and another glance around told him this wasn't even his _room_.

 

The woman-- clad in something similar to what he’d seen doctors wear in movies-- turned to look at him as soon as he shifted his head. She smiled at him, and he cringed inwardly, the feeling of his temples seemingly clashing into his skull much more prominent than any pleasantry.

 

"Well, just in time. Welcome back Connor, how are you feeling?" Her voice was a strange brand of calm-- he didn't have much time to think on why before he was trying to speak.

 

"Wh-what-?" Was all he managed to croak out, his voice coming out completely hoarse and so... not Connor-like.

 

Another glance around the room concluded there were actually multiple people at his side, His parents, and Zoe. How fitting for only his family to be there.

 

It was by now Connor had deduced he was in a hospital-- for what, he can't exactly remember just yet. Though he feels extremely weak, someone close to him, Larry, he's pretty sure-- wordlessly holds out a cup. He truly doesn't think he's ever been more grateful for a glass of fucking water, of all things.

 

The doctor says a few things to him after that, but he doesn't hear her anymore, already far past the point of caring. His eyes are slightly glazed over as he stares at the far wall a little longer. Somewhere along the way the doctor leaves, and now it's just his family left in the room.

 

Cynthia-- His mom-- looks like the only person who is there by choice, Zoe and Larry seemed to have just succumbed to angry silence as of right now. It may have been a dickish thing to say, but Connor was slightly thankful for the small, sniffling sounds his mother made every once in awhile, it made the burning feeling of them staring less intense.

 

She turns to Larry after a moment, whispering something in his ear. Connor doesn't try to listen in-- doesn't care that much, but soon enough him and Zoe are leaving the room, and he's all alone with Cynthia. He's much less comfortable with her silent weeping now-- it feels too... sad? Wow, that was dumb thing to think about someone _weeping,_ but it was true anyways.

 

Why was she so _sad?_ Why the hell was he even here?

 

Part of him didn't want to say anything, so he indulged it-- sat there staring at his mother sniffle and wipe her eyes for a few long moments until she decided to try and speak on her own accord.

 

"Oh, Connor..." She sounded miserable, looking up at him. Obviously she wasn't expecting to meet his eyes, because once she did she all but burst into tears again. He could already feel some form of guilt building in his throat, except he wasn't exactly sure why. He hadn't bothered to try and remember yet, more occupied by the present.

"...Why? Wh-why did you do it?" Her chin wobbled as she spoke, shaking a few more tears out of her eyes.

 

Eventually, Connor didn't feel like his vocal cords were laced with sandpaper anymore, and attempted to speak.

"D-do what?" God, he sounded even raspier if that was possible.

 

Cynthia's eyes widened in alarm at his words, still glossy as she hesitantly placed a hand on the side of his bed.

"..Y-you dont... you dont remember?" She asked, her voice was timid-- lacking its usual fire-- or resigned, too.

All he could do was shake his head in affirmation, but that was enough to make her elaborate.

"You..W-we found you, on your bed--" Oh god, her voice was wavering again. "-And you were.. you were barely breathing, Connor! Your whole room was smoked up--"

 

Ah.

 

There it is.

 

He'd almost overdosed.

 

"A-and you're mouth was foaming- and--" He raised his hand, with some difficulty at that, and shook it a little to signal he understood.

Cynthia went quiet for a long couple of minutes, just slowly easing back into gentle sniffling rather than full blown crying.

 

So. That's why he was here.

 

It took a painful amount of time for his- for Cynthia to look back up at him, her face tear-stained and red.

"Why did you do it?" Was her next question, and it sent a punch right up through Connor's throat.

He avidly tried to swallow down the sinking feeling-- tried to ignore it, but she just kept _staring_ at him. He did his best to brace himself for her next question.

"Why did you try to kill yourself?"

 

And there it was.


	2. Dear Evan Hansen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so ive been editing and all that fancy stuff but i just... uhg im sick of looking at this right now, I hope you guys like it anyways, get ready for some stupidly sappy shit in the next chapter.  
> feel free to comment! I really appreciate it,

Connor visibly tensed up, looking over at her with a slightly pained expression.

 

He hadn't _tried_ to kill himself.

 

It was an accident.

  
  


He'd been stupid-- Overreacting to everything for almost the entire day. He'd gotten into a vicious verbal fight with Zoe before the day had even _started,_ for fucks sake- and almost immediately after he got in through the school doors he had Jared-fucking- _Kleinman_  on his ass. Telling him he was really diggin' that _'School shooter chic'_ vibe.

 

And then _someone_ had laughed at him, too.

 

It was probably the weirdest laugh Connor had ever heard, but it was still a _laugh- dammit--_

 

Some random kid, who was way shorter and scrawnier than him-- and the minute Connor even _looked_ at them they became nervous.

 

So he ended up shoving them.

 

He did it because he was stupid-- and high, and thought that for _some reason_ this kid just.. just wanted to laugh at him for nothing, he'd never even talked to them outside of-- outside of anything, really. But he was just so angry and-

 

-and it was a mistake. Not the first one he’d made that day, but still a mistake.

 

He ended up telling Zoe for some reason, and she insisted he apologize-- so that's exactly what he did.

 

or well, tried to do.

 

He'd practically stormed out of the lunchroom after demanding that Kleinman tell him where they were-- It was fairly obvious the two had at least some form of contact, after all.

 

After five minutes of Connor impatiently snapping at the other, and Jared's incessant dicketry, he found out that apparently the computer lab was the most viable option, so that's where he headed. He ended up picking the kids paper off the printer- Seeing the name _Evan Hansen_ before something just clicked. He hoped he wasn't wrong about their name, because if he was that was going to be super fucking awkward to try and explain.

 

He'd hesitated outside of the lab, but forced himself ahead, spotting the kid almost immediately. For some magical reason, the gods had taken mercy on him and he was able to get out a semi-decent apology, and they actually accepted it-- but not without the accompany of a literal fuck-ton of stammering on the others part.

 

Connor noticed the cast on their arm, and offered to sign it-- no one else had. So when that kid-- Evan, when Evan held out a sharpie, he took it and scrawled his name in big, bold letters over the entire front of it. He made some offhanded comment about pretending they both had friends, and held up their paper with a faint smile.

 

-Except as he moved to hand it over, he spotted a very familiar name.

 

 _Zoe's_ name, to be exact.

 

He'd yanked it back-- Evans noise of surprise falling on deaf ears. His eyes had scanned over the whole letter, and being the idiot he was-- he flipped the fuck out. Demanded to know if Evan was just trying to agitate him-- trying to get the school _freak_ to react like everyone expected out of him. Eventually he just ran off with the letter in hand, tears already burning in the corners of his eyes.

  


Later that night, he still held the note with trembling fingers. He shook his head a little, headache already forming as he opted to set it aside. He was already lighting up his joint before he was even aware, and took a long drag of it. He didn't bother opening the window, figured that if his family smelt it they'd steer clear of his room for once in his goddamn life.

 

He rubbed his temples a little harder than necessary, and eventually, after a good amount of time he was throwing his now-finished joint in the trash can near his bed. He managed to pull himself into standing, and with heavy hands he grabbed the bottle of aspirin on his desk. He took a sip of water before washing two pills down.

 

Flopping back onto his bed, he dozed on and off-- and after about an hour he became agitated with the pounding in his head again, so he took two more pills-- mostly unsure if he'd already taken any yet to begin with-- was to stoned to care if he had.

 

The night continued like that, he'd lay down for a bit, get more agitated, and go for more-- until his stomach began to hurt, too.

 

Connor had groaned loudly, his stomach beginning to cramp up-- His head seemed to feel even worse, too, almost like it was hypersensitive to _anything._ Even the light from his lamp began to irritate him. He didn't have much time to think about that though- leaning over the side of his bed to vomit into his trash can.

 

He raised a hand up to his face, seeing how badly he was trembling. He wasn't even sure he could get up at this point-- his entire stomach felt like it was convulsing, so he did the only thing he figured he could- He layed down, and tried to sleep it off.

 

More like passed out, actually.

  
  


"..We found your suicide note.." The sound of Cynthia's voice snaps him back to reality, but not pleasantly.

There hadn't been a suicide note, it hadn't _been_ a suicide attempt to begin with.

 

"...Wh-what?" He still cringed at the sound of his own voice, but it didn't hurt nearly as bad as before.

 

"Y-your... suicide note? On your bedside table? D-Dear Evan Hansen-" She said something else after this, but he didn't hear anymore, only able to slowly piece it together bit by bit.

 

oh _fuck._

 


	3. A Little Judgment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me right in the honey-nut-feelios  
> same rule applies, feel free to comment anytime, it makes me super happy!

"No-" He interrupted her, his voice mostly a croak at this point.

"That--That wasn't-" How did he even begin to explain? 'Sorry mom, this is all some big fuck up on my part because I stole some random kids therapy letter and accidentally overdosed??' What the _fuck._

 

Cynthia put a hand on his leg, squeezing gently.

"I-It's okay. Connor, honey, _Please_ talk to us--"

 

"N-no--" God he was gonna puke again.

 

"We can get you help!-"

 

"Mom!" He was surprised by how... raw that sounded, like it wasn't even _him_ talking. Cynthia blinked up at him a few times, eyes slightly wide.

"I-I.. I wasn't trying to kill myself." He rasped out, a look of pain smeared across his features like cheap paint.

 

"B-but... The letter?" Her voice was timid, hesitant. Almost like she _wanted_ to believe him. Connor supposed that was a good thing.

 

"I-it was Evans’. He.. writes them to himself, I'm pretty sure.." He looked away, swallowing the rapidly forming lump in his throat. She was silent for a long minute after that.

 

"...What..What happened to _you_ , then?" She was staring at him. God, he wished she wasn't.

 

"..I.." He took a deep breath, not even contemplating any consequences at this point. "I got really angry." She followed the movements of his hands, seeing them fidget with the collar of his hospital gown.

"And so I got really fucking high, but.. I had this really bad headache-- so I took some aspirin."

Her eyes lit up with recognition.

 

"So you took a handful?!" She demanded, eyes wide with shock and worry. Connor frantically shook his head-- and cringed when his temples pulsed.

 

"No! No-- I just-- It didn't _stop_ hurting, so I kept thinking I didn't actually.. take any? so I just kept taking more until--" He slumped down a little, avoiding her eyes. She took the hint well enough.

 

"...My _baby_ -" She whispered, shaking her head a little as she brought her hands up to cover her face. For the first time in a while, Connor felt raw guilt bubble up in his stomach at the sound of her choked sobbing.

 

"..Mom," He murmured, not quite reaching out fully. Part of him was waiting for the anger- for either Zoe, or Larry to come storming back into his room just to rip him into shreds for all the horrible things he's done. Maybe he's even expecting it out of Cynthia, too-- Waiting for her to stand up and say something like _'You don't deserve to call me mom'_ \--or something similar.

 

He wouldnt exactly blame her if she did.

 

Yet she just stayed there, sobbing quietly like Connor was worth crying for-- like he was worth everything she'd done for him.

 

Cynthia was one of the- no, the _only_ person who defended him, she'd probably defend him even if he was the one killing her. That thought makes him feel nauseous all over again.

 

Larry and Zoe hated him. But that was fair, he supposed. He's done nothing but make their lives harder-- raising the school freak and drug addict isn't something he would assume is easy- and yet they've never threatened to kick him out, or send him away….

...permanently.

 

Connor set that thought aside, because this wasn't the time to be angry-- Not now, Not with his mother sobbing into her hands across from him.

There were so many times he'd been angry, and sure, it's normal to feel angry, but not everyday. Or all the time, for that matter.

 

Then, Connor was beside himself, what was he even going to do after this? Just go back home and pick up where he left off? Maybe actually get himself killed this time?

 

...Just.. Leave his family? Would they.. Would they even miss him? Obviously his mom would, but would Larry? Shit, would _Zoe?_

Would there even be anyone to weep for him at his funeral? Would Zoe come? Would she cry for him?

 

He hunched lower into his bed, his mother's sobbing dissolving into sniffles again.

 

Half of the family was missing.

 

He'd almost died.

 

That was a red flag all on its own.

 

Then again, he supposed Cynthia might have asked for a moment alone-- but she was the only one weeping for him, the moment he woke up there had been nothing but anger and annoyance plastered on everyone else's face.

 

How many times had he been met with that same expression? That anger, that _disgust._ How many times had he even thought about it? About how even _he_ was disappointed in himself?

 

That thought was enough to render him silent, was enough to make his heart sink into his stomach.

 

He wished it would just drop all the way out of him already.

 

Wished he could vomit it up and spit it into the trash, just be done with _feeling._

...  


She placed her hand over his.

 

He swallowed thickly, his eyes downcast. The familiar burn of tears forming in his eyes resonated as far as his throat while he willed himself to not cry.

He silently looked up at her now, seeing her eyes closed as she brushed her hair back.

 

And after a few minutes of guilt-ridden silence on his part, Connor turned his hand to gently squeeze hers.

 

Her eyes opened to look at him, slight shock evident on her features as she stared at Connor-- no, her _son,_ reciprocate for once. Another swell of guilt washed over him. How many times had he left her in the dark? How many times has he pushed her away to get _that_ kind of reaction?

 

How many times has he pushed _everyone_ away?

 

He met her eyes, his own glazed over with tears.

 

"I'm sorry, Mom." He whispered, voice trembling as he looked down at himself, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry." He repeated.

  


That was nowhere near enough, he knew. But what else was he supposed to say? what else _could_ he say?

In that instant she moved to wrap him up in a hug, he hated himself for how hesitant she seemed-- like she was _afraid_ to hug her own fucking _Child._

 

Connor knew that was probably the truth, too.

 

It was that way for Zoe, at least.

 


	4. Time To Retire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the less-than-regular upload schedule here, im trying you guys, its just the end of the school year and everything is really hectic, yknow?  
> Anyways I remember this chapter being fun to write, despite probably being out of character.

He wrapped his arms around his mother's back, going limp over her shoulders. When a few tears rolled down his cheeks, he didn’t think much about it for once.

 

"I've gotta  _ stop _ ." He whispered. The tears were coming quicker now, and his mother made a soft noise of confusion.

"I've gotta stop all this." He said again, voice straining in attempt to keep it from wavering.

 

"Connor?" She asked, not pulling away from the hug just yet.

 

"God, Mom I-" He let out a broken sob, immediately accompanied by her shushing him. She pet the back of his head gently, his shoulders shaking as he cried into her shoulder.

 

It took a long handful of minutes for his own sobbing to subside, but once he regained control of his breathing he continued talking.

 

"-I'm such a terrible son, such a terrible  _ brother _ -" He coughed quietly, and she just continued to pet him through his shaking.

"Y-you dont deserve this- None of you deserve this--" Cynthia made to pull away, but Connor tightened his arms around her, still trembling. 

 

"Connor-"

 

"You shouldn't be here." He murmured, voice growing more hoarse.

"You should be at home, actually enjoying your life with a  _ loving _ family-- Not in a hospital because your fuckup of a son almost  _ died _ ." His voice became distressed near the end, and she managed to actually pull away enough to look up at him. Her eyes were watering, a frown taking up her face.

 

"You--You aren't a-- a fuckup." She shook her head a little, swallowing thickly.

 

"I can't count the number of times I've made you all cry, Made you all _ hate  _ me." It came out hollow, almost resigned as he picked at his nails.

 

"Why would you need to remember that number?" She attempted a joke, but it fell flat on accord of her own shoulders slumping down. She looked like a wounded animal despite the current context of the situation, it made Connor tear his eyes away to look down at his lap.

 

"Mom--" His throat was starting to hurt again, almost like that feeling when it's hard to swallow something down. He knew he was bound to start crying again.

 

“-And we don't hate you, Connor--”

 

"-I need help." He whispered, sounding just... _ desperate. _ He took her hand into both of his, and pressed it to his cheek.

 

"W-we-- We can get you help, Connor," She was fighting back tears as well now, because for as long as she can remember they'd been  _ trying. _ Wanting to help him, push him in the right direction-- it never stuck before, though. He’d always end up re-visiting old habits whenever they let him go.

 

"I-I promise- I promise I'm gonna try this time." He continued to whisper feverishly, shaking his head as he spoke.

"I'm gonna get help, and I'm gonna stop-- I'm gonna stop making you cry--" His breathing was hitching up.

"I-I'm gonna stop scaring Zoe, and I'm gonna go to all my classes--" Fuck, tears were already streaking down his face as his voice took on that familiar tone of desperation.

 

"Connor-"

 

"I'll--I'll stop being ungrateful-- I'll make this  _ better. _ Mom, I  _ promise _ \--" As soon as he said the words she was hugging him again, much more sure of herself as Connor accepted it. They were both crying, now. The only difference was that he wasn't angry at anyone but himself.

 

"I-I'm gonna turn this around, Mom. I'm gonna make things  _ right _ like I should have, a long, long time ago." He was breathless at this point, practically gasping in-between sentences. 

 

His mom rocked them both for a little while, just letting the sniffling dissolve into silence again.

 

After another moment, she finally pulled back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"...You.. You mean that, right?" She asked, eyes hopeful when she met his again. He nodded mutely, not trusting his voice.

 

She smiled-- like,  _ really _ smiled. The kind of smile where her laugh lines became visible, and the corners of her eyes crinkled just enough for you to notice them. He felt his throat closing up again and smiled back, blinking rapidly in attempts to not cry,  _ again. _

"...We.. Should I bring the others back in?-"

 

"No," He managed, shaking his head a little. When Cynthia tilted her head to the side ever-so-slightly, Connor decided to elaborate.

"I.. I don't want to be  _ here _ when I apologize." He started quietly, eyes downcast. "I..I want to g-give it a little more time-- Get to a period where I’m not cooped up in a hospital." He sighed, seeing his mom nod sympathetically in understanding. 

 

"...Well.." She shrugged then, standing up from his bed. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling fainter now. 

 

"..Uh.. This is.. I don't really know..I-I’m not sure what else to do.." He stated honestly, looking towards the bedside table.

After a few minutes of considerably pleasant silence, he spoke up again.

"How long will I be here?" He asked, turning to look back up at her for a short moment.

 

She seemed to be unsure as well, placing a finger to her chin in thought. 

"I'm.. not sure, it really depends on how you feel now, I can go get the nurse?" She offered, Connor nodded briefly, running a hand through his hair. Cynthia smiled down at him then, and patted the top of his head.

"Alright," She said, voice soft. She gave him one of those half smiles, still trying to be lighthearted.

  
  


Soon enough Connor was alone in his new room, just sitting there quietly to take everything in. 

 

This was gonna fucking  _ suck. _

 

There had been a few times where he’d tried to quit smoking before, and that was all fine and dandy until he ended up breaking his own bookshelf in a fit of anger.

It really grated on his nerves, to say the least.

 

He pulled his lip between his teeth, biting it gently as the familiar sting of doubt began to burrow into his stomach.

 

There was a lot of things he’d promised to do, just a few minutes ago.

 

How the fuck would he even begin to manage all that? He didn't even know where to start--

 

Before he could begin to get overwhelmed, the door swung open again, revealing what Connor assumed was the nurse, and Cynthia. The nurse looked nice enough, and even offered him a polite little smile when she came closer.

 

“Hiya Connor! My names Heidi,” She offered her hand, and he took it with slight hesitance.

 

“Uh, nice to meet you..” He managed, catching his mothers eye as he glanced over at the door again.

 

“So, I’m just gonna ask you a few questions, take a few tests, and we’ll let you know how soon you’ll be able to leave, okay?” Her pen clacked against the clipboard she was holding.

 

“..Y-yeah,” He glanced away again, shoulders hunched up.

 

“Well, Let’s get started then,” She nodded, taking a seat by his bed.

  
\----------

 

So, A whole seventy-two hours before he could leave.

  
Wonderful.


	5. A Mother-Son Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's really tryin' here folks.  
> Also sorry for the delay, a lot of people have been coming over lately and i havent had much time to sit down and write, hope you can forgive me?

For almost the entire extent of his time left there, the most notable thing he did was just sleep on and off. His mom visited every morning, and Zoe only visited twice. Both times were not her own choice, most likely.

 

Eventually, in the middle of his stay his nurse, Heidi, had sat down to just talk to him while she checked his vitals again.

 

 

“So, This room must be pretty boring, huh?” She’d asked, voice warm and lighthearted as Connor stirred from his daze.  
  
“..Uh, yeah.” He murmured, rubbing some of the sleep out of his eyes.

 

“Bet you’re pretty excited to get out, right?” Her tone didn’t waver, didn’t miss a beat, she just kept checking over his IV’s with the same look of concentration in her eyes.

 

“Yeah, Never thought I’d say i’m glad to be going home soon...” He trailed off, Heidi didn’t push him to elaborate after that.

 

“You know, I have a kid close to your age,” A subject change, pretty courteous of her, Connor decided.

 

“Yeah?” He asked, barely curious-- but polite enough to feign it.  

 

“Yeah!” She gave a small laugh, sitting back. “He’s a real shy kid, super sweet though. His name’s Evan,” Connor glanced up at her from the corner of his eye, seeing her expression as something akin to silent contentment.

 

“...Oh?” He said then, a nervous knot beginning to form in his stomach. “..S-sorry, but uh, what’s your last name again?” He asked, turning his head to look at her fully. Her smiled didn't waver when their eyes met.

 

“Oh- Hansen, Heidi Hansen,” She nodded slightly, “-And my son is Evan Hansen.” She smiled brightly, and meanwhile Connor looked up at her like a deer caught in headlights.

 

Did she know?

 

Would Evan have said anything to her?

 

He figured no, Evan probably wasn't the type. Always too scared or nervous-- But that didn't soothe the swelling feeling of guilt rapidly forming in his stomach.

 

“-Connor? You still with me, bud?” she pat his leg, pulling back when he flinched. He shook his head a little in attempt to clear his head.

 

“Uh- y-yeah, no, I'm fine--” he stammered, looking away from her.

 

She raised an eyebrow at him, “You sure?” she asked again, eyes shining with doubt.

 

“Uh, yeah, I-Im sure.” He fidgeted with the collar of his nightgown, eyes lowered. “...I.. I know Evan.” he breathed, figuring that he could swallow his pride enough to tell her the truth.

 

Her expression immediately lit up, “Oh, you do? Are you two friends?” she asked, her voice dripping with hidden excitement.

 

Connor bit his lip, and gently shook his head. “Uh, We don't … we don't talk..” She seemed to deflate a little at that, but ultimately kept up her gentle smile.

 

“Oh, well maybe you should--”

 

Yeah, right.

 

“--You two seem like you could get along!”

 

Dammit.

 

Now she was staring at him with that.. that _hopeful_ kind of look. All he could do under that stare was bite his lip and nod.

“Uh, Yeah… I-I guess..” he sighed quietly, watching her stand.

 

“Well, Good!” she chirped, still grinning as she held up her clipboard, writing a few things down. “...Looks like I can leave you alone now, everything seems to be in working order!” she pat the top of his head.

 

Connor expected that to be it, expected her to just leave. But she hesitated near the side of his bed, writing something else down before ripping off a post-it note. She handed it to him, and he took the mint-green sheet of paper with shaky fingers.

 

There was a number scribbled on it, he looked back up at her, squinting a little.

 

She leaned in again, smiling faintly. “It's Evans number, In case you _do_ decide to start talking? He gets anxious about giving it out,”  Connor nodded, because he wasn't sure what else he was supposed to do. Heidi just nodded back, making her way out of the room.

 

He passed the number between his hands a few times, and turned to give a sidelong glance to his phone. Hesitating for another couple of minutes. He eventually reached over to pluck his phone off the table, plugging Evans number in his phone and saving the contact. He refrained from messaging them, though. Figured it was probably better to wait until he could… apologize? What was he even going to do?

 

Connor groaned, wiping a hand down his face in frustration.

 

Well, only forty-seven hours till he gets out, right?

 

 

When his family came to get him, it was only his mother, actually.

 

“Zoe has band practice, and your father is in a late meeting.” she explained on their walk to the car. Even with the feeling of anger bubbling up in his chest, he swallowed it down. Mostly wondering what it felt like to hold himself back from making a snide remark.

 

It didn't feel that good.

 

It just made the sting in his chest worsen, but mostly from disappointment.

 

He climbed in the passenger seat with a sort of dejected slump, his mother much more enthusiastic as she buckled herself in.

 

“So.” She clapped her hands together, looking ahead. He made a noncommittal noise, sort of a hum to confirm he heard her. “I was thinking....” she began, her voice taking on an excited thrum.

 

“..Yeah?” He asked, lolling his head to the side so he could look down at her.

 

“..Since it's just us, I was wondering if we could have.. a mother-son day?” she tried, voice hopeful as she turned to look up at him. “Like, how we used to? We could go get milkshakes!” she smiled.

 

A mother-son day would include spending the rest of the day together. He just got out of the hospital, and was really excited to sleep in his bed, but he promised to try and be better. So, what was the best option? Tell his mother no? Or...

 

He swallowed down the negative comment that threatened to spill out of his mouth, glancing down at his mother's hopeful expression.

 

“Sure.” he sighed, closing his eyes as he let his head fall back against the seat.

 

“-Really? You want to do that with me?” She asked, voice high and sincere. Gently, her fingers grazed over his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, sounds like fun, Mom.” he said then, not sounding nearly as tired as he felt. He peeked and eye open to look over at her again.

 

It counted as a win to see her smiling up at him like that, right?


	6. Good Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a doubly long chapter to try and make up for my absence lately, Hope you all enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing this one

Several hours later, after milkshakes and an actually decent manicure, Connor could say it actually wasn't the worst thing in the world. It didn't leave him as drained as he thought it might.

 

By the time they pulled into the driveway, he actually had the ghost of a smile on his lips, while his mother seemed just downright  _ giddy _ .

Zoe and Larry were obviously home already, given the other cars in the garage. His mother didn't seem to care at all, following after her with a slight drag to his step.

 

Larry was lounging on the couch in the living room, rubbing his temples as he read over something that looked like a manual of sorts. He looked up when they came in, his eyes immediately zoning in on Connor.

 

“I thought you were getting out at Six.” he phrased it like a question, but Connor could tell it wasn't.

 

Cynthia smiled slightly, glancing back at him.

“He did, we just went out for a little bit, had some milkshakes!” she exclaimed, smiling wider. Larry looked like he wasn't exactly impressed with the notion.

 

“Really, why is that?” It was clear what he was thinking as he eyed Connor down from the corner of his eye. He was glaring a little.

 

His mother frowned, and before she could say anything Connor reached out and touched her shoulder. She looked back at him with raised eyebrows, and he stepped in front of her, feeling reckless.

 

“I begged to go out and eat, Hospital food really sucks as a diet,” he shrugged, Larry glared up at him for a moment, almost like he was trying to visibly detect a lie.

 

After a minute of that he sighed, shaking his head before going back to his reading.

 

Glancing back at his mom told him she obviously wasn't pleased with him-- his dad, not  _ himself. _ But she offered a tiny smile to him anyways.

 

She walked him up to his room, having to explain why he no longer had a door to separate his room from the hall.

 

“Zoe was the one that found you, and Larry thinks getting rid of your door might help keep you under control.” Connor scoffed, and his mom seemed vaguely close to reacting the same way.

 

“Thats...”

 

“Hey, I didn't say he was right.” she snorted, patting the other on the back. He was a little too tired to question the notion of why Zoe-- of all people-- was the one to find him to begin with.

 

 

 

Soon enough he was nearly crying with relief as he fell back onto his bed.  _ His  _ bed, not a hard hospital one! He buried his face into his pillow, dozing off. 

 

He wasn't sure how long he slept, but when he woke up there was a plate of food sitting on his bedside table. And good lord is he thankful for his moms cooking-- for once in his life.

 

 

The next few days just idly passed by, With Connor leaving his room as little as possible. Larry and Zoe hadn’t tried to talk to him yet, and he doubted they would for a while.

 

So, he decided he would talk to them first.

 

Which is how he came to be standing stock still in front of Zoe’s bedroom door, debating whether he should just leave, or knock already.

 

He huffed quietly, and raised a shaky hand up to finally knock on her door after the fifth time trying to work up the courage.

 

“Who's there?” Came her slightly muffled voice, her tone wasn't as questioning as it was bored, and he figured it was probably a good thing she wasn't worried. Then again, she probably didn't even think it was him, he’d usually just storm into her room unannounced to begin with.

 

“..It’s me,” His voice sounded just as shaky as he felt. There was a few muffled noises from behind the door before it was cracked open and Zoe’s face came into view. Her brow was creased down in what he guess was suspicion, or maybe even anger.

 

“What do you want, Connor?” Her eyes scanned over his face, like she was trying to find something indiscernible.

 

He breathed in, “...To...talk.” He said slowly, like he was trying to figure out what he was saying as he said it.

 

Her eyebrows shot up in barely hidden disbelief. Though after a moment she slowly cracked the door open, clearly not intending to press further. He stepped in wordlessly, and she closed the door again before wandering back over to her bed, and sitting down.   
  
She was still eyeing him suspiciously, and he decided to stay standing while he tried to figure out a way to breach the topic of.. Recovery? His mom had talked about scheduling him an in-school therapist, so that Fucking Larry wouldnt flip his shit, he supposed.

 

“So. You came here to talk.” Her voice was monotone as she raised an eyebrow, making her disinterest very apparent. 

 

Connor’s first impulse would have been to snap at her, something like  _ ‘I’m fucking trying’ _ or  _ ‘Give me a fucking second’ _ And it physically pained him to just breathe in and hold it back, but he somehow managed.    
  
“...I’m trying.” He croaked out instead, words lacking the bite he had imagined them with. Zoe seemed even more surprised at that. Both of her eyebrows raised as she stared up at him.

 

“Okay.”

 

From the way her words lacked any venom, he assumed she could also feel how thick the atmosphere was. It was awkward, and heavy. It fell unevenly over Connor’s shoulders and made him want to slump down to his knees in defeated silence.

 

Apologizing was fucking difficult.

 

“I’m sorry.” And suddenly it wasn't. Almost immediately the atmosphere shifted, it sloped and Connor felt lighter than before. He worked up the strength to look up at Zoe now, seeing her features twisted into a kind of scared disbelief.

 

“...What?” She asked, her voice a little above a whisper. He knew she’d ask, somehow.

 

“I’m sorry.” He said again, the words coming easier now as he stared back at her. Her expression lightened only a little before her eyes narrowed, but not in the usual hateful glare-- more a soft, considering look as her gaze flickered down the rest of him. Eventually they came back to stare into his own, and he met them easily.

 

“...Is...Is this a joke?” Her posture was tense, and her expression betrayed her uneasiness. Connor shook his head.

 

“No. Not I...It's not.” His voice was soft, and for once he wasnt angered by her doubt. “I...I wanted to tell you that uh..Mom is trying to get me into therapy..” He maintained that gentle tone somehow, eyes downcast as he focused on the carpet. 

 

“..Oh.” Was all she said.

 

“Yeah...I...I freaked out, I-In the hospital, I mean.” He sighed, glancing back up and taking in the confused noise she made.

“..Kinda..Kinda told mom I.. I needed help, that I uh-- I wanted to get better, to  _ be _ better for--” He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, meeting her eyes again. He didn't feel like he had the courage to finish that sentence, but he didn't need to, Zoe seemed to get the point just fine based on the way her eyes widened.

 

“...That’s...That’s good.” She cleared her throat, clearly unsure about what to say. He shook his head a little.

 

“Okay. Fuck I-” He made a frustrated noise, and Zoe looked up at him again. “Shit, Zoe, I don't know what to say here. I don't know how to make it better--” He rubbed the bridge of his nose now, his voice taking on that familiar frustrated edge.

“I know I fuck up a lot, I get that I fucked you over so many times but I-- I don't know how to _ fix _ it-”

 

“-Because you cant.” She cut him off, and he was glad for it too, because he wasn't sure where that sentence was gonna end. He opened his eyes to look down at her, a pained expression settling across his face. “You...You cant-er--  _ fix _ it, per-say, But uh...I guess...You can try to be better? Like, in the future?” He could tell she was trying to piece it together as well, and honestly, he was just glad she hadnt snapped at him yet.

 

“I...Is there...Is there no way to make it better?” He asked, swallowing nervously.

 

“I dont… I dont know. I… I accept your apology, but I.. I dont think I forgive you just yet, this is kinda a surreal experience.” Her eyes lowered, and Connor finally took a few steps closer.   
  
“I think I understand,” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away as well. Zoe sighed quietly, and pat the spot next to her. Connor sank down onto the bed, looking at his feet. there was a few moments of silence between them.   


  
“...Remember that one time when we were kids, when you got stuck in between the bars on the stairs?” Connor started quietly, Zoe nodded a little, her hair spilling over her shoulders. “And you were crying while Larry tried to get you out? And you made me hold you for  _ hours  _ after?” He asked, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

 

“...Yeah, I was like.. four? Five?” She shook her head a little, “Why?”    
  
He was quiet for a few moments after that. “I...That made me feel really happy, that you wouldn't stop crying until  _ I  _ held you, and that no one else could.” He swallowed again, trying to keep his throat from closing up.

“I think...I think that was the moment I decided that I really wanted to be a good brother. Like, sure, there were moments before, but I kinda just..really realized in that moment.” He cleared his throat, looking down again.   
  
Zoe looked up at him, but didnt say anything.

 

“I...I went to your Jazz band concert, Last school year, the one right before summer?” He brushed his hair out of his eyes.

 

“...Really?” She asked, her voice seemed so small, so fragile.   
  
“I...Yeah. I didnt want you to know I was going, though. S-so I.. I dressed differently, put on my glasses and sat in the back.” He huffed, shaking his head a little. “It was.. It was probably stupid, But I thought it’d.. It would mess you up to see me there, or that you’d get mad at me or.. Something..” He trailed off, frowning a little.    
  
She looked away again, trying to soak in the information.   
  
“..It was.. You were really good, Zoe, I didnt… I didnt realize how good you’ve gotten.” He smiled then, but only briefly.

 

For some reason, this was really easy. It was like he’d stepped outside of himself and just.. Spoke. He’d normally lock himself outside of the positive, mostly sure Zoe would just… just what? Get mad at him? He shook his head again.

 

Zoe clasped her hands together in her lap, fiddling with her thumbs briefly. “...Wow.” Was all she said, and Connor honestly had to agree.

 

“I...I’m sorry. I’ve--I’ve been a terrible brother-” His breathing grew slightly irregular, and his eyes were beginning to sting. When was the last time he’d cried in front of Zoe?

 

“Yeah, kinda.” She breathed, closing her eyes. Connor slowly moved to stand back up, looking down at her only to find her looking back.

 

“I...”  
  
“You really mean it, right? You’re gonna try?” Connor blinked a few times, nodded again.   
  
“I mean it.” It was almost a whisper. This was probably the longest conversation he’d had with Zoe-- without it ending in screaming-- for.. For years, surely. 

 

“..I wish I could expect you to be better _now_.” She gave a humorless laugh, looking back down at her lap. “But...but this is more than i’ve really expected, at least, for a while now..” Her voice grew more timid as she spoke, and in that moment Connor had never felt like more of an asshole.

 

“I’m sorry.” He choked out, his voice almost going hoarse.

 

“I know. A-and.. And for now, I...I guess that’s good enough.” She nodded to herself a little, before repeating, “That’s good enough for now.”

 

 

Connor left Zoe’s room feeling like he could actually go through with this, that he  _ could _ and  _ would _ get better, and he supposed that right now that was good enough.

 

Right now, he was good enough.


	7. A Type of Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn celery is fuckin good

He hadnt gone to school the first few days back home, and though it was considered normal for him to skip out, it was actually his mother's idea for him to stay home.

 

“I know you were resting up in the hospital too but… Maybe, stay home till the week is over? Go back Monday for a fresh start?” She’d suggested, sitting down next to him on his bed. He nodded a little, his hair falling into his eyes.

 

There was a few moments where she was quiet, before reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. “I heard you talked to Zoe.” He nodded again. Looking up just barely to catch the small smile that crossed her features. 

 

“...Yeah, she told you?” He asked, looking back to the side once her fingers combed through his hair.

 

“Mhhmm,” She hummed, “She came downstairs last night and hugged me, then she told me what you’d said. I feel that you made her really happy, Connor.” He snorted quietly, ‘happy’ probably wasnt the best word to use, but he nodded along anyways.

 

“I haven’t talked to Larry yet.” She made a huffing noise when he called them Larry, but ultimately ignored it.    
  
“Well, maybe you should do that today, He isnt working late-- to my knowledge.” She smiled at him, and Connor briefly wondered how the fuck he would approach any conversation with them to begin with.

 

“How. What would I even do?” It was pretty sad to realize he actually had no idea how to even talk to his own father. Isnt that something for the books? Keep a record of all the times he'd tried and failed to be enough for Fucking Larry, and there probably wouldn't be enough room anywhere in the house to store all those memories. 

 

Cynthia made a soft sound, clearly contemplating her answer. “Just.. try to talk to him? Maybe find something you can do together?" Connor scoffed, ignoring his mothers narrowed gaze. "How did you talk to Zoe?” She asked in turn, eyebrows worrying together.   
  
“I..I went to her room, and started talking.” He huffed, “But… But I cant-- I cant talk to him like I talk to Zoe-- You know he doesn't even--” He blew out a huff of air through his nose, cutting off his sentence before he could get worked up again.

 

“He doesn't believe you, I know.” Connor’s head snapped up to look at her, seeing her expression darken considerably. “..Maybe you shouldn't talk about… Maybe it's better to just… to tell him you’re trying, I suppose? That's a fairly safe route to go down.” She attempted to remain positive, but her smile was weaker than before.

 

“..I guess.” He gave a noncommittal shrug in response, seeing her head tilt to the side. 

 

Eventually she stood up, sighing quietly as she pat his head. “I...I’m so, so, unbelievably proud of you-- for… for this.” She gestured vaguely towards him. “For wanting to try, I’m...I’m sure we can figure this out.” She gave a small, self assured nod, and Connor let himself offer a tired smile in return.

 

She left his room after a few more minutes, and he stood up to stretch quietly. He heard his back pop, and groaned.

 

Brushing a hand through his hair, he cringed at how oily it felt. Yeah, a shower seemed like a good idea. He flopped over onto his bed, reaching down to open his nightstand before  his eyes widened slightly. 

 

There was a crumpled piece of paper sitting atop the other various items in his drawer, it was folded neatly, like it had been flattened, and re-folded a few times. He picked it up and opened it, his stomach dropping slightly when he was met with the words  _ ‘Dear Evan Hansen’  _

 

_ Fuck. _ Of course he still had the damn note.

 

Then again, his mom had said she found it, after all. She probably put it here after Connor told her the truth, assuming he would find it. Technically she was right, but he kinda wished she hadn't been. 

Now he just felt like an even bigger asshole as he re-read over the same lines of text. The letter wasn't even that outrageous, he’d just been upset that it talked about Zoe-- or the kid’s  _ crush _ on Zoe, more specifically.

 

Come to think of it-- It didn't even say that he had a crush on her-- not directly, at least. It could have totally just been their way of saying they wanted to be her friend, or something like that.

 

He slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. Even if Hansen liked Zoe, why the fuck would that be  _ his _ business? Zoe’s her own fucking person-- she doesn't need a weird psychopath of a brother controlling who she can be with and--

 

\--And deep breaths, he’s getting worked up again.

 

_ ‘It’s fine. You don't need to over analyze this, you don't need to disturb the natural order of things, you’ve probably scared that kid- Evan, his name is fucking  _ _ Evan _ _ \-- You’ve probably scared Evan shitless already, so just go back Monday, give him his note and apologize for being such a fucking wreck--’ _

 

He startles at the sound of the front door opening, blinking a few times before realizing where he was. Turning to look at the bedside clock, it read 4:37, the numbers blinking at him a few times. Zoe probably just got home from practice. 

 

Leaning back over, he remembers why he opened the drawer in the first place. Grabbing his hairbrush, he sets the note back where he found it, quickly beginning to brush through the knots in his hair. 

 

He stepped into his bathroom-- also lacking a door now, and began to strip.

 

At least his shower still had a curtain, right?

 

 

The shower didn't do much to help him think, but he supposed he _did_ feel a little better anyways. He was currently spread out on his bed, wet hair still clinging to his neck and soaking the sheets.

 

He stared up at the weird pattern carved into the ceiling, feeling a twinge of that familiar irritation when the details blurred slightly. There was already the beginning of a dull ache in his chest, and he could tell it wasn't a good thing. 

 

It was like there was static in his ears, yet it was still too quiet. He wanted something to do, something to feel. Maybe a cigarette if he opened his window--

 

Uhg. No. No smoking unless it's an emergency. An example of that? Maybe if he was freaking out it would be okay, but now? No, this is the equivilant to his normal irritation level.

 

He sat up, cringing when his hair slapped onto his back. He could already feel it soaking through his shirt.

 

Pretty soon he found himself climbing down the stairs, and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and peered around, opening the bottom drawer to reveal a few different wrapped up vegetables. 

 

He pulled out what looked like a bag of celery, and shrugged a little, shutting the fridge again. The sound of footsteps slapping against tile brought him to glance over his shoulder, seeing Zoe stand in the archway. She offered a small half-wave before plopping down onto a stool near the kitchens’ island.

 

“Why do you have a bag of celery?” She propped her chin onto her hand as she stared at him. He shrugged again.   
  
“My mouth is kinda doing that thing where it.. It gets like.. I dont know how to explain other than-” He puffs out his cheeks then, before blowing the air out of his nose once he’s done demonstrating. Zoe seems to get it, since she nods.   
  
“I actually understand what you mean,”    
  
“Shocking.” She rolls her eyes when he says it. He takes a stick of celery and bites into it, making a crisp, satisfying sound. Wordlessly, he offers one to Zoe, who takes it from him with a look of slight interest.

 

“It always sounds weirdly intense when  _ you _ bite it.” She observes quietly. Connor snorted at that, shaking his head a little.    
  
“Shit, you’re onto me.” He huffs loudly, the hint of a smile forming on his lips as a little laugh spills out of Zoe.

 

It’s a little weird, but it's nice too. Connor kinda likes the atmosphere here, he kinda likes Zoe not glaring at him whenever he’s near her-- even if it's only been a day.    
  


"I came down here so I wouldn't smoke." The confession kinda just slips out, like it has every right to pass through his lips and into the air. Zoe looks up at him, pausing mid-chew with her cheeks still slightly puffed out.

 

"Oh." The word is slightly muffled, and Connor does this kinda half-grin at her before she swallows. "That's... that's pretty good, to not smoke." Its an awkward sentence, but he nods anyways.

 

"Yeah, same thing I figured." She punches him in the arm after that, though its gentle, and they both end up laughing at each other.

They continue like that for a little bit, just… talking, really. That is, until Zoe gets up to leave, saying something about having to plan a get together with someone-- her study partner? Yeah, Connor’s pretty sure that's what she said.   
  


All in all, it felt strangely peaceful just standing there. Like the silence wasn't crowding him anymore, it was nice. It was a type of quiet he could probably get used to.


	8. Promise to Try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck my guys this fucking sucked to write (but also rocked)  
> Also the most verbally intense chapter ive ever written  
> feel free to leave a comment! and go bother me on my tumblr if you want, its @A-Ghostly-State

He puts everything back in the fridge before heading back out, The clock says it's nearly a quarter till 6, and he knows Larry will be home soon. That leaves the question of how exactly Connors gonna talk to him.

 

Maybe he should do just that? Just start talking? Maybe he could walk up to them and get straight to the point, Larry wasn't really a man of finesse, In Connor’s opinion.

 

He stopped in the livingroom briefly, stretching until his back popped. Glancing around for a few moments, his eyes fell on the couch, then the bookcase next to it.

 

Connor rubbed the back of his neck, slowly approaching the bookcase as his eyes swept over the various pictures lining the shelves. There was a few awards scattered between them, as well. He picked up a photo of him and Zoe, when they were much younger. They crowded together in the frame, smiling ear to ear as Zoe proudly held up a sheet of paper with the words ‘ZOE MURPHY: HONOR ROLL STUDENT’ on it.

 

That was in fourth grade, he was pretty sure. Zoe had gotten perfect grades across the board that year, and Connor had probably never been more proud of her for it.

 

He bit his lip and frowned, setting the picture back where it was before. His eyes lowered down to the bottom shelf, a small wave of guilt crashing into his stomach. Before it got too intense he gripped the side of the bookcase, jolting when something hit his foot.

 

A quick glance downwards told him it was a.. A baseball? He bent down to pick it up, and put it back on the lower shelf, seeing the baseball glove that resided next to it. 

 

He picked up the glove instead. Turning it around in his hands a few times. Didn't Larry get him this? Connor furrowed his eyebrows a little, recalling the distaste he had for it when he'd first seen it. He wasn't really the type for sports, so he’d probably ended up just tossing the thing away.

 

Cynthia's words made a reappearance in that moment,

 

_ “Maybe find something you can do together?” _

 

He huffed quietly, mulling over his thoughts as his eyes fixated over the coarse leather. He wasn't even sure how would he even begin to talk to Larry, let alone ask to play a game of fucking  _ catch _ .

 

_ ‘Hey, Pa, i know you've doubted my mental health for years and constantly remind me of what a disappointment i am, but how about we toss a fucking baseball around and pretend it'll fix all our problems?’ _

 

Blegh.

 

Connor made a face, turning on his heel towards the stairs.

 

Glove in hand, he flopped down onto his bed, his hair splaying out everywhere. He held it up over his face, brows knitting together as he slowly unclasped the strap. Slipping his fingers in first, he gently urged the rest of his hand in. He flexed his fingers, displeased with how stiff the leather was around the movement.

 

The sound of a door opening brought him back to the present. Probably Larry, he decided, then promptly rolled over in bed.  He curled up, the glove pressed to his chest as he willed the uncomfortable feeling of nervousness down his throat. Oh, yeah, a screaming match? That's all fine and dandy, but actually talking? God fucking forbid-- right?

 

He hated this, and he hated himself for feeling like this.

 

A small, desperate voice in Connor's head told him this wasn't his fault, that Larry was the one refusing to accept the possibility of his child being sick -- and it was beginning to sound a lot like his mom. But a bigger, louder voice told him it was Larry's fault he  _ was _ sick.

 

And Connor  _ knew _ that wasn't true. He knew this was probably beyond anyone's control and that it wasn't wrong to have an illness, but it still sank into him like a lead weight whenever he saw that  _ look _ Larry gave him. He clutched the glove tighter now, because that was probably something he’d gotten Connor so they could spend time together.

 

His eyes stung and he  _ squeezed and squeezed and squeezed _  that glove until his fingers hurt. 

 

The back of his neck was hot and he wished he could say he wasn't upset right now, he wished he could just be normal and alright and not have a fucking breakdown because of a baseball glove his dad got him in second grade.

 

His thoughts screeched to a halt suddenly.

 

His  _ dad _ .

 

When did he start thinking that? 

 

It was always ‘Fucking Larry’ since the end of Elementary school.

 

He rubbed at his eyes harshly, a snarl taking over his lips. He really wanted to smash something.

 

Right as he sat up, he grabbed the small lamp from his table. It was plastic, and didn't have a cord, because his mom was paranoid.

 

He was fairly certain it wouldn't break if he chucked it, but he continued to stare at it for a long moment before setting it back on the table. His mom's voice pleaded with him in the back of his head.

 

_ “I...I’m so, so, unbelievably proud of you-- for… for this.” She gestured vaguely towards him. “For wanting to try,” _

 

He takes the glove off and puts it in his drawer, along with Evans note, and feels a little better now that he isnt wearing a physical reminder of the ‘better’ times.

There is a sound of heavy footsteps from the stairwell, and Connor layed back down on his side, curled up with his back to the door, or lack thereof.

 

Soon, there was the sound of someone knocking on his door frame. Then steps leading closer to his bed. There was someone hovering over his bed now, he could tell.

 

“Your mother sent me up.” came Larry's voice, followed by the mattress dipping when the other sat down. Connor blinked open his eyes, and sighed quietly.

 

“Figures.” he muttered. His eyes still feel irritated, and he briefly wonders if they look that way, too.   
  


“She told me you wanted to talk about something?” Christ, the way he speaks makes it sound like Connors gonna break the news he fucking  _ murdered _ someone, and he really doesn't know if he should be angry at that, or if he deserves it.

 

He sighs and sits up, moving onto his back.    
  
“Yeah. I did.” Connor meets their eyes, and feels his stomach kinda drop with the look of caution his- his  _ father _ is giving him.   


“Alright.” He nods stiffly, silently telling Connor to continue.    
  
“So-- I uh.” He starts and then stops, unsure of how to go about this whole thing. Pretty soon he’s opening his mouth to speak again, only this time he’s  _ winging it. _

“I’m pretty sure we don't understand each other, like, at all.” He hears Larry hum, and takes that as a sign that he hasn't stepped on a nerve yet.   
  


“But.. But I decided Im.. Im gonna try to get better.” He steps around the words cautiously, like he isnt sure where the cracks are, or if there even is any.   
  
Larry is silent for a moment, and right when Connor thinks he’s going to find  _ some way _ to get angry, he speaks up.   
  
“I think that is.. A good decision, Connor.” He gives a firm nod, and turns to actually look down at him. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” He asks, his voice sounds firm.    
  
He feels his heart sink, because No, that  _ wasnt _ all he wanted to tell him.   
  
“Uh-- Also,” He begins, a little hesitantly. Larrys staring down at him now, and he doesn't know whether it's better to stop or keep going.   
  
“--Can we, uh, Can we...try to.. Understand each other? Just a little more?” He tries. And he really hopes that they get it, because he doesn't know what he’s gonna do otherwise.    
  
“Connor, It’s hardly my fault we dont already understand each other.” Larry stands up, and Connor feels his chest tighten more.   
  
Fuck.   
  
He should have fucking known better.

 

“Th-that-- thats not true-” He chokes out, sitting up fully as he watches his father take a few steps towards the door frame, and turn around to look down at him.   
  
“Connor. It’s not my fault you dont tell me anything. How do you expect me to just ‘try and understand’ if you don't put in the effort?” His voice is firm, and Connor feels his face heat up from pure  _ anger. _ __   
__   
“T-this isnt just _ my  _ fault!” He says, his voice rising as he meets the others eyes again. “You never made it apparent that I  _ could _ come to you! How was I supposed to feel safe when you were the one always saying I needed to suck it up?!” He was yelling now, and Larry looked just about ready to explode himself.   
  
“See? This is the problem, you never listen!” He holds out a hand in Connors direction, voice angry and resigned all at once as his eyes settle into a heated glare.   
  
“Yeah? Well i’m not the  _ only one _ that isnt fucking listening!” He snaps, standing up from his bed in a rush. Larry growls something under his breath, and Connor does  __ not fucking care  what.

“I tell you that I’m trying to get better-- T-that I want to try and get along with you, and you just-- Have to fucking point out whatever you think is my fault!” His voice is going raspy, and he’s fighting back tears because he’s never had a fight with Larry like this before.   
  
He’s never had a fight with them where he’s actually been.. Well, this  _ vulnerable _ before, and it's already proving to be a mistake.

 

“Connor-- You need to face the consequences of your actions eventually, its a part of life any  _ respectable _ person does.” Connor is pretty sure his face is red at this point, if Larry is anything to go by.

 

“Since _ when _ have you _ ever _ fucking respected me? All you’re doing is placing the blame for  _ our  _ falling out on me! It's not just my fucking fault-!” He yells, face scrunching up from the intensity of his glare.   
“I-I dont fucking get it! Why can’t you just be happy that I’m _ trying? _ ” Connor’s voice takes on a desperate edge, and cracks at the end of his sentence.    
  


Larry almost looks taken aback for half a second, but quickly regains his icy composure. He opens his mouth to speak, but Connor beats him to it.   
  
“N-no matter what I  _ do _ \--” He has tears in his eyes now, but he ignores that in favor of looking down to his feet. “No matter what-- Y-you’re just always going to be disappointed-- I’m always going to let you down and you’re always going to think i’m never  _ good enough. _ ”His voice has cracked multiple times throughout that, and Larry has the decency to at least look uncomfortable with the situation.

 

“Connor--”   
  
“ _ -No! _ Dont tell me that isn’t the fucking  _ truth--! _ ” He  _ screams, _ lurching forward as he clenches his hands into the fabric of his own shirt. There are tears rolling down his face and he doesn't move to stop it-- and Larry looks like he’s seen a  _ ghost. _ __   
__   
Because of all the times Connor’s had temper tantrums, it was over things besides their dysfunctional relationship. So it was probably pretty hard to swallow the magnitude of their words.

 

Connor is breathing heavily, and he rights himself back into standing, but avoids looking anywhere but down. He sniffles quietly, shaking his head.   
  
“A-and I think… the saddest part is-- Really, you just want me to be  _ normal _ .” his voice goes into this raspy timidness, and he gives a hollow laugh that sounds more like a sob.   
“...I think… I think I want that, too...” His voice goes quieter, and for the first time since he started crying, he looks up at Larry.   
  
“But I… I just  _ can’t _ do that sometimes. O-or  _ most _ of the time, for that matter.” He’s taken Larry’s stricken silence as a sign to continue, so he does.

 

“I-- I want to be _ normal _ \-- fuck I want to be  _ happy _ , I want things to be easy but I-- dont  _ understand how _ they can be.” He turns to face his window, bringing his hands up to clench at his shirt again. He takes a step away from Larry, and looks down to the ground.   
  
“B-but there's-- People  _ say  _ certain things or- or  _ do _ certain things and I just get  _ so angry _ and I-- I don't think you get the fact that I  _ can’t _ fucking control it.” He’s got a white knuckled grip on the front of his shirt, and he doesn't want to look at them again, because he’s already feeling the tears coming back to him.

 

“I wish that I-- I wish I fucking  _ could _ \-- But It's so _ hard _ when you feel like everything is  _ against you _ .” He rasps out, curling in on himself.   
  
There's only silence from Larry, and Connor briefly thinks maybe he’s left. But he knows thats not the truth.

 

“I… I’m--  _ God _ … I’m sorry I’m such a fuck up, Dad..” He sounds broken, his voice coming out dejected and flat. There are tears trailing down his cheeks, and he can still feel the word _ Dad  _ seared onto his tongue. 

 

Everything is quiet as Larry crosses the room.   
  
It’s quiet when he puts a hand on Connors shoulder.

 

It stays quiet when Connor hugs him, and he hugs back.

 

 

The house is quiet, when Larry promises to try.

 


	9. 3 A.M.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait, i kinda died?? Ive been drawing a lot instead so yeh  
> i promise to try and write more since i have a computer that can run google docs p fast now.  
> Feel free to leave a comment, i appreciate them!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When Connor wakes up next, it's nearing three in the morning, he finds that someone tucked him into bed, and his skin is already crawling with irritation.

 

He sits up in bed, and rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palm in attempt to re-focus. When the room is no longer fuzzy, his eyebrows furrow together.

 

Today is Monday. He was supposed to go back to school today.

 

The notion makes him groan quietly, and the familiar pinpricks of anger begin to simmer just below the surface, and that's already setting off alarm bells in his head, because he still doesn't quite know _why_ he feels the way he does, he just--

 

He wants to smoke.

 

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, he decides he’s waited long enough. It's literally just now three, so he’s pretty sure the effect will have mostly worn off by the time he needs to leave, anyways.

 

So, why not, right? He’s itching for it, and based on the amount of sleep he’s gotten it's less than likely he’ll be making any rational decisions right now.

 

He ducks down to feel under his bed, before his hand brushes against cool metal. Sighing quietly, he pulls the canister out and examines it for a moment. After a minute of staring he opens it, and rolls himself a joint with little hesitance.

  
  
Now that his bedroom doesn't have a door, it's very likely that the smell will travel no matter what he does, so he finds the next best thing.   
  
Which is how he ends up perched on the side of his roof.

 

At 3 A.M.

 

Smoking a joint.

 

 _‘Ah, Priorities.’_ Echoes the thoughts in the back of his head. It makes his expression twitch, and he takes another drag before he can really let himself get upset.

 

Despite his literally only reason for being out here was to smoke, he thinks it's kinda nice. It's still dark out, and he would bet the whole city was silent if he was any more naive. This is the space that branches between times he dreads-- _Used_ to dread.

 

3 A.M. is the perfect time to find yourself dissociating in a grocery store that resembles a movie made in the 1950’s-- the perfect time to walk around your neighborhood while pretending to be in some scary apocalypse scenario. It's perfect for sifting through your imagination, like if you’re pining for a new idea to write-- or draw, or something equally as important.

 

It's perfect for sitting on your roof, and watching the stars twinkle while you make bad decisions.

 

At least, that's what Connor thinks when he hunches over slightly, hugging his knees to his chest for a moment before throwing the finished blunt aside.

 

He feels calm now, like a slight drowsiness has settled over him. It forces his muscles to relax, and he ends up sprawling out over the roofs surface. The texture of the paneling digs into his back, and it's less than comfortable to lay on, but it doesn't stop him from doing so for a bit.

 

Eventually though, his stomach growls, and he sighs because _yeah, that's a part of being high you dumbass._ And he ends up clambering back into his room, only to open up his bedside drawer before pulling out a half-empty pack of cigarettes. The calm from his high has already settled in, but he’s still itching for something to feel more _real._

 

Maybe it’ll help to stave off his hunger for a bit, too.

 

Before he shuts the drawer he comes across that folded up piece of paper, again. Along with the glove. It sends a gross chill down his spine, and fuck, he wishes that Evan kid hadn't written the damn thing in the first place. Because now it was Monday, and his mom knew about the whole thing, and expecting him to apologize and--

 

_No, No. It isnt his fault you lost your shit. You technically still dont even know what the stupid thing means anyways._

 

 

He perches atop the roof again, and lights his cigarette with ease before taking a long drag. The itching in his chest dulls significantly after taking a few more hits. After a few more minutes he still feels hungry anyways, and supposes he’ll just have to suffer until breakfast time.

 

Cynthia had brought up the whole ‘Designated Meal Time.’ mess. Something about how having a set time would help with-- what, some internal-clock bullshit? Whatever. He didn't really feel like walking all the way downstairs anyways, their house was kinda big.

 

 

When he was done he ended up crawling back into his room. Spraying on some cologne he didnt remember buying before flopping back down onto his bed, unsure if he can even go back to sleep. For all intents and purposes, he feels calm. That's good, but still probably not good that he had to smoke a blunt, and cigarette to achieve it in the first place.

 

Well, actually, He hasn't smoked either in a few days, so he supposed that was progress compared to the way he used to do it every day.   
  
He tucked the canister back under his bed, opening his drawer to place the pack of cigarettes near the back of it. Before he can think better of it he takes hold of Evan’s letter, and brings the paper out to examine it.

 

Gently, he unfolds it. Nothing about it has changed, but for a strange moment Connor kinda wants to memorize the contents, let the others writing sink in because _wow, someone I know created this, and it's not mine and I shouldn't have it anyways._

 

Shaking his head a little, he glances over the beginning a few times, his mind grasping onto the words slower than normal.

 

He doesn't know why he keeps reading it, doesn't know why he cares at all. Evan doesn't know him, and he doesn't know Evan, either. He figures maybe it's better that way-- because even though they’ve been going to the same schools together for years, Evan has never tried to talk to him-- Hell, Connor didn't even remember their name until about two weeks ago.

 

Yet it's all he’s been thinking about since he re-discovered the damn letter.

 

Reading it again just continuosly makes him feel worse. They didn't _do_ anything to him, so why couldn't he just stayed calm for _once_ instead of flying of the handle?

 

The worst part is he knows it was all a misunderstanding.

 

He shifts up onto his elbows before placing the letter on the nightstand. Flicking the lamp off, he decides to try and sleep some more, just to pass the time at this point. Pulling the covers over himself again, he curls up on his side.

 

Eventually his rampant thoughts subside with the promise to apologize first chance he gets, and he slips off into sleep.


	10. Wanna Borrow my Eyeliner?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so originally i was gonna write in Evan for this chapter, but...... yknow that didnt really happen, though next chapter its for sure, so be ready for that.

The next time he wakes up, Cynthia is gently shaking his shoulder. He groans loudly into his pillow before cracking an irritated eye open. She smiles apologetically and draws her hand back to rest in her lap.

 

“It’s time to wake up, Sweetie, You need to get ready for school.” She gestures to the clock on his dresser, and when he rolls over to look. It reads 8:13 A.M. He sits up on his elbows, and she moves to stand up before making her way back to the door frame.   
  
“Breakfast is ready whenever you come down!” Her cheery voice grates on his ears-- and he pins it on just waking up in order to give today the benefit of the doubt. Glancing back towards the hall, he finds that his mom's already left. Most likely to loom about downstairs.

 

He clambers out of the bed and runs a hand through his hair, stretching until he felt more awake. Connor throws open his dresser after stripping off the clothes he slept in, and picks out the first things he sees. It's actually not that bad, A simple gray, long sleeved shirt, and his black skinny jeans. They weren't originally bought with holes in them, but hey, Connor isn't one to throw shit away. So as long as they are still actually decent pants, he won't be tossing them anytime soon.

 

After that he makes his way to the bathroom across the hall, and shuts the door. He brushes his teeth, washes his face, all that good shit you’re supposed to do when getting ready. He even brushes his hair! Before immediately teasing it out with his fingers to make it look like he didn’t.

 

When he’s done in the bathroom he flicks the light off, and heads back into his room. He slips on his jacket, and pauses when his eyes fall onto the note, still laying on his nightstand. He sighs, and stuffs it into his pants pocket before heading towards the stairs. He spent a good ten minutes getting ready, and when he steps foot into the kitchen his mom seems immensely pleased with him.

 

“Oh! Sweetie, you look nice!” She rubs his back for a moment before gently brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

 

Zoe is sat across from Larry, seemingly trying to cram a piece of toast into her mouth before she meets Connor's eyes and abruptly stops. She just-- She just holds like, half of the toast in her mouth and he has _no idea_ why that's funny, but it totally is. He lets out a snort, and she grins-- or, well, she tries to.

 

Cynthia turns to see what's got Connor so amused-- and sighs when her eyes land on Zoe, but that just makes Connor want to laugh _more._

 

She just shakes her head and runs her fingers through his hair, and her face lights up all over again.  
  
“Oh- You brushed your hair!” She cooed, and Zoe choked on a mouthful of bread before managing to get the offending piece of toast out of her mouth. She coughs into her hands, but Connor can tell she's _laughing_ , too. It makes his cheeks flush a slight pink.

 

“--Man- I- I wondered what was off--” She coughed a few more times before Larry leaned over to pat her back. Zoe gave a small nod when she was finally okay.  
  
“Uhg, it’s-- it’s not a big deal..” He mumbles, and yep, he’s definitely still coming down from his high, because he’s feeling a little irritable even though he-- he knows Zoe isn't laughing _at_ him.

 

She wouldn’t do that, right?

 

 

Before he has time to think it over, Zoe seems to just-- sense his discomfort. Because almost immediately after she pulls out another chair, and gestures for him to sit in it.

 

It’s the chair right next to her.

 

 

He eats a piece of toast, and follows Zoe out the door after they’re both done. His mom stops him to ask for a hug before he leaves, and he complies. It feels kinda like the first day of freshman year all over again. He waves the thought away by the time he’s buckled himself into the passenger seat.

 

 

Another handful of minutes pass as Zoe starts the car, pulling out of the driveway before turning out of their street.  
  
“You smell like weed.” Connor takes in a breath through his nose, looking over at her from where he’s leaned against the car door. Not the first thing he expected her to say, but he isnt really gonna complain.   
  
“I bet I do.” He replies a little dryly. Zoe glances at him from out the corner of her eye and frowns.   
  
“Care to tell me why?” Is her next question. Connor resists the urge to laugh, though it's pretty tempting.   
  
“Because I was smoking weed.” He smiles faintly, and it falters when he hears Zoe let out a sigh.   
  
“..You know what I meant, Connor.” That makes his throat close up a little, and he actively swallows the lump beginning to form there.

 

He does. He does know what she meant. But that doesn't make him want to tell the truth.  


It takes him a moment to find the words, because he still doesn't exactly know how everything is suppose to work-- but he figures she just wants the truth.

 

So he tries to give it to her.

  
“...I was just...Everything was too sharp and I just-- I needed to calm down.” His voice is smaller, more fragile now that he’s actually being genuine. Part of him thinks she’ll be angry, and another thinks she’ll be disappointed.

 

He kinda hopes she’s angry instead.

 

Zoe is silent for a long couple of minutes, and it does nothing to ease his nerves, He ends up just staring out the window for a long time, picking at the hair band around his wrist.

 

 

“Okay.”

 

He stills at that, and carefully tilts his head to look at her from the corner of his eye. She seems to immediately sense the tension settled between them, and jumps to try and fix it.  
  
“I mean, i’m not _happy.”_ She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and focuses on the road intently.

“-But, I guess it’s okay-- i mean, don't just _do it_ to do it, but like, if that’s the only thing that can calm you down when things get-- well, _bad,_ then.. Yeah, I guess.” She’s gripping onto the steering wheel tightly, and Connor’s eyes fall onto her white-knuckled grip.

 

She’s trying to understand.

 

“...Yeah.. I uh, I promise i’m still trying to quit, though.” He can tell that's what she needed to hear, because her posture relaxes some more.

 

“Good.”

 

The car lapses into silence again, and he kinda dislikes it. The static playing in the back of his mind is too loud.  
  
“When do you think I’ll get my car back?” He asks, looking down at his hands in attempt to feign nonchalance. His nail polish is chipped to hell.

 

He should repaint them.

 

“Probably when they’re convinced you aren't trying to kill yourself.” She says, almost dryly. And for a moment the sense of relief that she believes him is enough to overpower the way his scars itch.

 

He’s quiet for a minute, and Zoe takes a deep breath.  
  
“Was that insensitive? I’m sorry, I’m trying to be less standoffish.” She says it kinda fast in the beginning, And Connor is a little surprised by it, he ends up shaking his head a little.   
  
“I- No, It was fine.”

 

“Alright, cool.” She nods a little, her eyes never leaving the road.

 

“...You know I didn't, right?” He has to make sure, it's like an itch. A passing thought that won't go away.

 

“I know. I believe you.”

 

He didn't need to hear that extra _‘I believe you’_ but it kinda hits him square in the chest when he does. His throat closes up a little, and he mimics her nod.

 

“Cool.”

 

 

Zoe stops at a red light, just off of the intersection when she finally turns to look at Connor. She opens her mouth like she wants to speak, but hesitates. She waits a moment before slowly meeting his eyes.  
  
“I...Okay so like, It's-- We’re super early. You wanna hit up A McDonalds?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

 

It feels a little strange, coming from her. He nods anyway, and she smiles, pulling off onto the intersection when the light turns green. The silence after is comfortable, and Connor stares out the window and thinks about the clouds.’

 

\----------

 

So that’s how they end up at a McDonald's, sitting in the car and watching the busy intersection from the parking lot. It's pretty peaceful.

 

Connor takes a sip of his hot chocolate, and glances over at Zoe, who's currently inhaling some hashbrowns. She catches him staring and nearly chokes, Connor laughs loudly, and they throw away their trash.

 

 

Zoe drums her fingers against the steering wheel, looking out past the parking lot. She doesn't turn to Connor when she asks.  
  
“Do you wanna borrow my eyeliner?”   
  
“Oh, thank god.”

 

Five minutes and two perfectly-lined eyes later, they’re back on the road, and Connor feels closer to Zoe than ever. Maybe thats a quick judgment, but it makes him feel better to think that they’re really on their way.


	11. A "Get Well Soon" Card

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time to drop off the face of the earth for the next ten years
> 
> ANYWAYS EVAN IS HERE NOW

When they pull up to the school, Connor slumps down in his seat. He feels kinda nervous at the thought of going back now-- He kinda wonders how many people thought he actually _tried_ to kill himself.

 

Then again, He’s tried before, so he supposes it wouldn't be too far fetched.

 

When Zoe parks the car, she sits back and doesn't move for a few moments. Connor tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and avoids her eyes when she turns to look at him.

 

“Are you gonna skip class again?” It isn't an accusation, but it still manages to feel like one, so he tucks himself farther into the seat like it’ll swallow him up if he tries hard enough.

 

“...I dont… I dont know.” He picks at one of the holes in his jeans.  
  
“Mom got an in-school counselor, you know.”

 

He finally looks up at her. Did he know? He guessed they talked about it when he got out but, overall it was kinda avoided.

 

They really didn't talk over a lot of things.

 

 

“She did?”

 

“Yeah, she told me about it.”

 

“But not me?”  
  
“I thought you guys already talked about it?”   
  
“Not that much,” He shrugs, and Zoe presses her lips into a thin line and nods, apparently understanding.   


“Well, Just… don’t be surprised if the office calls you, I guess.”

  
Connor glances at the clock, they’re still early, somehow.

 

 

“Are you gonna try and stay in class?” She raises an eyebrow, and she must have a lot of faith to assume he would already by going to his classes anyways.

 

He humors the idea for a moment.  
  
“...If anyone tries to talk to me about shit, i'm leaving.”

 

Zoe looks like she wants to protest, but she turns away to pull the key out of the ignition instead.   
  
“That’s fair, I guess.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, and Connor does the same, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he climbs out of the car. He makes sure not to slam it shut, instead just closing it like a normal fucking person, because for once he isn't actually _angry_ to be here.

 

Maybe a little despondent, but not angry.

 

Zoe fixes the straps on her backpack, and a few trinkets jingle with the movement. She pulls a hair pin out before re-fixing it into place as Connor strolls up beside her.   
  
“It’s cool if I walk with you, right?” He feels a swell of anxiousness in the pit of his stomach, because yeah, sure, things are better. But to their classmates he’s still a-

 

“Yeah, for sure.” Zoe looks at him like he’s grown a second head for a minute, and Connor feels stupid for even asking. She isn't-- Zoe isn't the type to get embarrassed by the people she surrounds herself with. She’s undeterred, loyal, and-

 

And Connor thinks she’s really awesome.

 

But he wouldn't ever say that, of course.

 

 

The minute they walk through the front doors his stomach drops into a pit, the letter burns where it's sitting in his pocket, and he hates to think about what he’s gonna say to the kid. He hasn't even told Zoe about it.

 

Not to say she didn't know about the note in the first place, anyways. She’d seen him shove them, for fucks sake. And besides, when your mother thinks you left a suicide note, she’s probably gonna share it with the family.

 

 

Zoe seems to sense how tense he is-- just like she’s been doing a lot, lately-- and nudges him a little to try and get his attention. He jolts a little, and looks down at her, before she’s gesturing in front of them.

 

When Connor looks up, his heart sinks for a whole other reason.

 

There’s a girl heading straight for them, she’s way shorter than him, her hair is in this kinda bob hairstyle with way too many sparkly hair clips, and she's in a pale yellow sweater. She’s a little chubby from what Connor can tell.

 

When she finally reaches them, she slows to a stop, toeing at the ground with her converse before holding out a card.

 

“U-uh, Y-you’re Connor, right? I-I heard about... ” She takes  deep breath, and Connor raises an eyebrow at the way her face is flushed, Zoe shifts beside him, a little uncomfortable, but trying not to be.  
  
“--A-anyways, w-we made you this-- uh, this card,” Her voice is softer, and Zoe turns to eye him like she’s expecting him to get upset.

 

He really, really hopes this doesn't happen often, because he isn't sure he’ll be able to handle it quite as smoothly ever again.

 

Slowly, he reaches out to take the car from her hands, and when she looks up at him, He can see this-- this _hopeful_ look in her eyes.

 

And Connor feels _sick sick sick._

 

But he manages a slight half-smile at her, and nods. “Thank you.” He adds, and she looks so _happy._

 

Zoe is smiling too, and she watches as the girl practically skips off before bumping shoulders with him.

 

“...That was cool of you.”

 

He kinda wants to forget it ever happened, but he still can't bring himself to just throw it in the trash. So he stuffs it into the front pocket of his backpack and grunts.

 

“I hope it never happens again.”

 

Zoe laughs quietly, patting him on the back in mock comfort.   
  
”There there. The nice lady is gone now,” She says, her words dripping with amusement.

 

 

 

It happens three more times.

 

He manages to not be a complete asshole each time.

 

 

Somewhere along the lines he has to remind himself why he hates it so much.  
  
_‘These people don’t even fucking know you, and they think you’ll just believe they care if they make you a card.’_

 

At least no one has been an ass yet. Just be thankful.

 

 

Actually, except for the whole card thing, people seem to have been staving off of their usual whispers and taunts.

 

It's kinda how Connor would imagine a normal day for anyone else would be like.

 

 

Shit, Even Kleinman seems a little quiet around him. That’s a real first considering it's.. Yknow, Kleinman.

 

Regardless of the weird lack of attention, he actually manages to go to all of his classes before the lunch bell.

 

He’s a little proud of himself, He thinks Zoe will be, too.

 

But with that thought, he pushes out of his desk chair and heads to the office, a little more than curious about the whole therapist thing. He knows that no one is in there during lunch, and that gives him a little confidence beforehand.

 

 

He pushes the door open and takes a few steps inside, hesitating for half a second before heading up to the front desk. The receptionist looks up at him over the rim of her glasses, and beams.

 

“Hey, Connor! What can I do for you today?” He’s a little surprised she remembers him-- and then he thinks back to all the times he’s been called up to the principle and isn't as impressed anymore.

 

Finding the right way to word his next sentence is a little difficult. But he somehow manages without cringing too much.

 

“Uh, My mom-- my mom told me about this uh, ‘in school’ therapist?” He uses air quotes around the title. It crosses his mind that he’s technically lying, but he supposes it isn't a huge deal anyways. At least Zoe told him about it in a little more depth, right?

 

Her eyes light up, and she nods.   
  
“Oh, yeah! Her name is Dr. West, and- ”

 

“I-uh, actually was-- sorry, I was wondering when i’d.. Meet her..” He has to cut them off, because as nice as she is he really doesn't want to listen to her drone on about what this ‘Dr. West’ is all about. She doesn't seem to mind anyways, and rolls with the punches as if it was scripted.

 

“Oh! She comes on Wednesdays, so you don't need to worry too much today.” He nods, and she smiles at him again, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

 

\----------

 

Connor brushes a hand through his hair and and slips off into the boys bathroom afterwards, contemplating the idea of splashing water on his face.

 

He stops mid step when he spots a pair of wide eyes, staring up at him from the mirror.

 

_Fuck._

 

The note.

 

_The note the note the note_

 

He holds up a hand, and jesus fuck the tension in the air is dense-- Evan is still staring up at him like a deer in headlights, and he kinda wishes he was better with people.

 

Their face looks blotchy, and they duck their head down to furiously wipe their eyes.

 

Shit, were they crying?

 

“Uh- woah, Hey.” He takes a step forward, and Evan presses his back to the wall, sliding down it until they're sitting on the ground. Connor internally panics, and sees that they are hyperventilating at this point; He doesn't know what to do, so he tries to go off of what he thinks he’d want someone to do for him.   
  
He crouches down in front of them, and hesitates a little on touching them. Instead he ducks his head down to try and meet their eyes, it works, somewhat.   
  
“Hey-- Hey, woah, wh-what's wrong?” He stammers, and fuck, what is he even doing right now? Evan looks like he’s about to pass out and Connor doesn't even know why.   
  
_This is your fault._

 

He fucking _swats_ that stupid voice away, because there's no rational evidence behind that claim and he really doesn't need to be throwing a pity party for himself when Evan- fucking- Hansen is having a panic attack right in front of him.

 

“Evan? Evan, hey. Look at me.” They seem a little startled when he says their name, and complies almost instantly. Connor swallows the lump in his throat and tries to think of what to do now.

 

_What would he want someone to do?_

 

He doesn't know, because whenever he’s had a panic attack before he was alone through it.

 

_Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck it._

 

It's a hell of a guess, but Connor reaches up and cups the other boys face in his hands, directing them to look up at him fully. Evan freezes up at the contact, and Connor had half a mind to think he was an idiot before Evan relaxes a little.

 

_He probably thought you were going to hit him._

 

Connor is getting tired of that voice, so he puts his focus on Evan for the most part.  
  
“Shit. Uh, listen, just-- just try and breathe.” _stupid._ “Focus on where you are, and who you are.” He manages, and that's a little better. Evan blinks up at him for a moment or two before his breathing begins to calm. And honestly? Connor thinks it's a fucking miracle.

 

To really seal it, he starts counting up to ten, then twenty, and by the time he’s at fifty-seven, Evan’s breathing is almost back to normal.

 

They sit in silence for a long minute after Connor pulls away, and he really doesn't want to break the silence now; luckily Evan breaks it for him anyways.

 

“..I-I’m s-sorry-” He stammers quietly, his face is flushed pink, and he’s avoiding Connor's eyes.

 

“No, no,” He moves to stand up, awkwardly offering his hand out to the other. “It’s fine,”  
  
Evan blinks up at his hand, and after a moment of hesitation they take it, and stand up. Nervously brushing their shirt for a moment, they end up looking up at him again, and Connor opens his mouth to say something.

 

_This is your chance. Don’t fuck this up._

 

He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out the note, thrusting his arm out to offer it to the other. They give a slightly puzzled look, and Connor glances away.  
  
“Im.. I’m sorry about taking your note. A-and uh.. just … being an ass?” He shrugs, and Evan looks up at him with wide eyes, a blush settling over his face.   
  
“O-oh--” They take the note, and fiddle with the folded paper. “--I-it's um.. It's okay. I-I just-- I-I p-probably deserved it--” Connor sucks in a breath, and shakes his head, grabbing the other's attention.   
  
“Look- Just-- just accept the apology. It wasn't your fault i lost my shit.”

 

Evan looks like he’s about to say something, but quickly snaps his mouth shut. They nod a little, and He watches as they look back down at their feet.  
  
“...So..” He rubs the back of his neck, feeling a little more than just awkward. Evan peeks up at him, and his face is still pink from earlier.   
  
“Any.. any reason in particular you were freaking out?” He asks, and immediately regrets it, because what kind of person asks that right after someone starts to feel better?

 

Evan looks away again, and Connor feels _stupid stupid stupid_ until they speak up, albeit a little quietly.

 

“...I-I was… I-I just got… L-like… Th-the cafeteria was… i-it was noisy? L-like i couldnt think, a-and--” Connor cuts him off with a small nod, because yeah, that makes sense.

 

He gets it.

 

And he takes a hell of a flying chance when he asks “I mean, do you wanna step outside for a bit?” He asks, and he feels a little flush come to his own cheeks when Evan offers a shaky smile, and nods.  
  
“I- y-yeah, uh, s-sure.”

 

That went a lot better than he’d expected.


	12. What The Fuck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the fuck???? I havent updated in way too long you guys. But im here to say that that may not change, ive been really struggling with writing lately, and coupled with recent laptop problems idk how long it'll take to get out the next chapter-- either way though, im gonna try my damndest to get things to you!! wish me luck, and tell me what you think about the chapter!

 

It’s still lunchtime, so Connor brings Evan back to where he would usually hang out. The shorter of the two seems a little fidgety, but that doesn't really seem like an uncommon trend for them, so Connor tries not to take offense. 

 

It kinda works.

  
  


“Welcome to my little hang-out.” He makes a muted gesture to the back of the school. No one else was around, and he took that as a good sign. It takes him a moment to slump back against the wall, and slide down into a sitting position. Evan is left standing for a moment, before slowly following suit. He sits close to Connor, but not  _ too  _ close; a safe handful of space between them.

 

Silence overcomes the both of them, and Connor begrudgingly realizes he doesn't know what to say.

 

“...”

  
  


“Th-thank you..”

 

It looks like Evan beats him to it anyways.

 

“Huh?” He asks, turning to look down at the other. They looks a little tense; staring down at their lap as they twist the hem of their shirt between their fingers. Connor watches as a dark pink flush coats their cheeks.   
  
“F-for my letter? Y-you uh-- you didn't have t-to do that..” they manage, biting their lip once they’re done speaking. Connor huffs at that, and shakes his head.   
  
“I… I know I didn’t.” He says softly, looking down towards the ground. “But it was the right thing to do, you know?” He offers a little shrug, looking back down at Evan from the corner of his eye. He feels his own face heat up when he finds that they’re staring  _ back _ at him.

 

“..Ju-just because something is right, doesn't m-mean it’s obligated..” They murmur, looking away again. Connor feels a brief flare of agitation, and rolls his eyes.   
  
“Look, I just--” He takes a deep breath. “-I… I didn't want you to think you.. I dunno, deserved that? B-because uh, you-- you didn't, y’know. You literally didn't do anything to warrant what I did.” Jeez, it sounds like he committed a crime, almost.

 

Well, that actually wasn't that unbelievable for him, now was it?

 

Evan is silent now, and they havent looks up from where they’re staring at the ground. At first, Connor thinks he may have upset them, but when they turn back to look up at him, they attempt a small smile.   
  
“W-well… th-thanks for that, a-anyways...” He mumbles, still fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

 

It’s stupid. Connor thinks its stupid; the fact that he’s blushing right now is totally unwarranted. 

  
  


The rest of lunch passes between them with useless banter. Evan seems a little tense around him, but maybe they’re just like that all the time?

 

Connor tries to forget about it after then, and heads to his next class.

 

Which also has Evan in it.

 

What the fuck.

  
  


What the actual fuck? Why is this kid suddenly everywhere? Did he seriously just not notice them before?

 

Yep. The teacher called his name on the roster, Connor just really didn't notice them.

 

What the fuck?

 

_ What the fuck. _

 

Okay, whatever, time to pay attention in class for once in your life, Connor. Try to think about something else, rather than the fact that you literally  _ just  _ noticed someone else’s existence.

  
  


Class passes way too slowly for Connor, and he’s racing out of the room the second the bell rings. He feels people staring, and it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he speed-walks the fuck out of there.

 

The days only barely past halfway over, and he’s already exhausted. Technically he could leave, just give up and go sleep in the car until school is over--

 

But he promised Zoe. He promised he’d make it through today.

  
  


So, he reasons, It’ll probably feel better to just collapse on his bed when he doesn't have to worry about his family being  _ too  _ disappointed in him, right? 

 

Yeah, probably.

  
  


Really, the thought of sleeping is the only thing getting him through today; He’s just tired of it all-- the cards, the people, the classes-- he just wants to shut everything out again and  _ sleep. _

 

But-- When did he get so tired to begin with?

 

Maybe it's just the fact that he hasn't been to school in so long-- he isn't used to all this anymore and it's taking a toll on him-- yeah, yeah that sounds right, doesn't it? It has to be right, because then--

 

Then there just wouldn't be a reason, otherwise; right?

 

Uhg. He’s sick of his own bitterness at this point-- sick of everything about today, actually.

 

Though, he supposes being tired is better than being angry, in any case.

 

Well, it’s what he’s gonna keep telling himself.

  
  
  


“Damn, you look like shit.” Is the first thing he hears when he slips into the passenger seat of Zoe’s car, letting his bag flop onto the floor of the car with a dull thud. 

 

“Thanks.” He says dryly, shutting the door with a sigh before he’s buckling himself in. Zoe clicks her tongue, and turns the ignition. 

 

“I’m gonna guess it was a rough first day back?” There's a hint of sympathy in her voice, and Connor tries not to dwell on it.

 

“So many people came up to me today.” He sighs, letting his head fall back against the seat with a wince. “It sucked a lot of ass.” 

 

“Well, at least it's over now, right?” She bumps her knuckles to his shoulder, turning the wheel before backing out of the parking space with ease.

 

“Yeah, I went to all my classes, actually.” His fingers drum against his thigh while he speaks, tilting his head to the side to look out the window. Zoe smiles, keeping her eyes forward.

 

“That's… really good, Connor, Mom and dad are gonna flip their shit when they hear about it.” She chuckles, stealing a glance over at him from the corner of her eye. Connor takes a moment to bask in the praise, and smiles a little as well.

 

“Yeah..” He sighs, letting his eyes close. “I’m fuckin tired, though.” running his hands through his hair, he slouches back against the seat; Zoe laughs quietly, and waves him off.

 

“Go ahead and sleep, bro. I don't desperately need you to entertain me,” She huffs, still amused.

 

Connor nods a little, already drifting, “Yeah, whatever, loser.” He yawns loudly, and settles back into an as comfortable a position as he can manage. Zoe doesn't respond after that, yet there is still a small smile painted over her lips long after Connor is already asleep.

 


End file.
